"Andrew, are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Where did you go?"

"I had to think." I couldn't tell her, I was ashamed to tell her what I had done to Walker and, for some reason, I couldn't tell her about the woman I had seen.

"I'm sorry." A sad, forlorn look fell across her face.

"For what? Taking care of me? saving me?"

"I haven't taken care of you. I didn't give you a chance. I didn't give you a choice."

"I asked you to stay with me, Judith, and you made that possible." I lay down beside her on the bed. "I love you."

"You don't even know me."

"Teach me, then. I'm yours, now."

She looked at me with great longing. She got up and sat in the chair across the room. I sat up and looked at her.

"I shouldn't have been so selfish. I shouldn't have gone to you. I'm sorry."

"Don't. . ."

"You don't know what I've done to you."

"I do! You have given me strength beyond anything I ever imagined, you've given me a new life!"

"I took your life, don't you understand that. Just like the little girl, just like all of the little girls. Just like the policeman and that other man."

I was astonished.

"Did you follow me?"

"No."

"How?"

"I can't explain it, I just know. I know everything about you. I know that you weren't finished." She began to cry.

"I'm not finished?"

"You weren't finished! You still had so much life left. You were so beautiful, so gifted. I killed you!" "You gave me life!"

"It's not the life that you want! You're changed. I changed you. You still have no idea what I've done. You'll hate me."

"It's you that I want! I would die a thousand deaths for you. Can't you see? I want to be with you! Had you given me a choice, I would have chosen you."

"You cannot know that."

"But, I do."

I tried to hold her, but she pulled away and walked to the door. She turned and looked back at me with a look of horror on her face.

"Andrew?"

"Yes, Judith?"

"Stay away from her, Andrew." I could feel her eyes boring into me, "The woman you saw tonight, stay away from her."

"Who is she?" I asked.

"An old friend, Andrew," she sighed, "an old, old friend."

"Who?" I started toward her, "Why can't you tell me who she?"

"Because I want you to love me!" Judith interrupted, tears flowing red down her soft white cheeks. And she was gone, with no further explanation.

Things went pretty much as normal for the next few months. Judith would occasionally accompany me on a hunt, but more often, I went alone. I was a little uncomfortable with her seeing the ease at which I adapted to this new lifestyle. I became proficient, a skilled hunter. I learned quickly the marks of good prey, ones whose disappearance would go less noticed.

A few of the bodies were found and it was surprising to me, upon reading the papers, how quickly the police and the public branded me a serial murderer, with no real evidence! The city was scared, and they conducted a fruitless search for me. Luckily, we only go out at night and it is not too hard for us to remain virtually unnoticed.

It was greatly disturbing to me to be branded a murderer. I know what you are thinking: that I was, am, exactly what they called me. But, it is not like that at all, I do not kill for killing's sake, I merely sustain myself, I cannot help the method by which this sustenance must be derived, no more than a lion can be faulted for the gazelle that it eats; it is natural. Regardless, at the time I was greatly insulted by the charges. Judith merely told me to be careful, to try not to attract attention.

No more was said of my running off after the little girl, or of the mysterious woman whom I had seen. No more was said of anything past. Judith refused to tell me anything about her history, and it was not long before I stopped asking. I tried my hardest to prove my love for her, to excel at my condition and lessen her concern or worry at transforming me. But, whatever I did, and however well I mastered the ways of our kind, she slipped slowly away. She drifted often into a quiet stupor as we sat in our rooms, staring at the walls or ceiling, staring at me. When pressed, she would only say, 'I'm sorry'.

I awoke one evening and she was gone.

I stayed awake for days, holed up like a rat behind the thick black velvet curtains of our rooms. I wanted to be there when she returned. I wanted to apologize for disappointing her. I wanted to reassure her that I did, and always would, love her. But, after the third day without any word from her, I gave up. I was starving. I had to hunt and I knew exactly where I wanted to go.

It was a little after eleven when I made it down to the Library. I liked to hunt in the surrounding streets and alleys. It was a rather fortunate paradox that such a beautiful and well-fortified institution of learning and culture was built in the middle of the worst district of the city. Hunting amongst these people ensured anonymity. No one questioned you if you stalked around in the shadows, even if they caught you; it was normal behavior around here. The police were very slow to investigate when someone went missing around here, if they noticed at all. And afterward, I could read.

I walked around the building to the east, into the shadows. The prettiest of the whores had already been picked up for a few hours at least. I would have to make due with second-rate, or maybe find some young tourist who's lost his way. I would normally have preferred to wait, but I was starved. It was all I could do to keep from grabbing the first human that wandered within arm's length and feeding right in the middle of the street.

I saw him across the street. It was my lucky night after all. The tops of the toes of his bright shiny black shoes were scuffed, and his hat sat a little off to the left, casting a shadow accentuating his strong young chin.

"Pardon me?" I said as I approached, "Do you have the time?"

"Sure, mister," he smiled from underneath his grossly out of proportion brim, "all of the time you want!"

I smiled back and offered him my arm. He smelled of urine and sex beneath the generously applied cheap cologne. He trembled when he held my arm.

"You're strong, mister!" His accent told me he wasn't a local, all the better.

"You haven't seen anything yet." I smiled and led him down the dark dead-end alley.

We stopped beside a pile of empty boxes and crates, well hidden from the street. I removed my coat and started unbuttoning the sleeves of my shirt. He struggled with his coat, which was at least two sizes too small.

"It's gonna be twenty," he smiled, weakly, "I prefer to be paid up front." He held out his hand. I pulled out my wallet, and pretending to think about it a moment, pulled out a hundred and placed it into his dirty palm.

"I don't have any change."

"I didn't ask for any." I loosened my collar.

"What do you want me to do?" He began loosening his pants.

"No," I waved my hand, "Not yet. Your shirt, take off your shirt first."

He peeled the shirt slowly at first, but then quickly over his head, to keep me in his sight. Smart boy.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked again.

His chest was skinny, hardly any hair. The scar that ran along his right breast glowed against his dark oily skin. My silence was making him nervous.

"Look, mister," he looked nervously up the alley, "we shouldn't stay here very long. The cops, you know. What do you want?"

"I want you."

"No shit." He was getting obstinate! "You want me to suck you off, or do you want to do me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, boy!" I all but yelled as I grabbed his wrist. He was crying now. "I just want to hold you." I laughed.

He was shaking as I brought him close. I ran my fingers into his filthy, grimy hair. His breathing was growing faster and I could feel his excitement against my leg.

"I'm hungry," I whispered.

"What?" He tried to scream, but I squeezed his throat, choking off his breath as I bit into him. My world turned red and I could feel his heart beating wildly. He struggled for a minute; he was much stronger than his small frame would have led me to believe. I lifted him and pressed him hard against the brick wall. He only lasted a few minutes more.

I pulled out as he released his last breath and slumped, cold, into my arms. I reached into his front jeans pocket and retrieved my hundred dollars. He wasn't so excited now, I laughed to myself as I tossed him behind the stacks of pallets and crates that littered the alley.

I returned the next night to the same area. I don't often take my prey from the same neighborhoods two nights in a row, but this particular neighborhood could sustain a few nights bleeding. No one here was from the area; it was always full of drifters and prostitutes at night. As long as you stayed away from the regulars and the few tenants of the run down hovels that lined the streets, darkly leaning as if to topple on unsuspecting passers-by, you would be safe.

On this night, I had set my sights on a pretty young girl who looked to be of Portuguese descent. She was walking with another girl, a blonde. I figured that the blonde would get picked up first; they usually do, so I followed at a distance. As predicted, it was not too long until the blonde left in the company of a man who very well could have been her great-grandfather, from the look of him. I followed her down an alleyway next to a Chinese restaurant.

"Where is she?"

I spun around at her voice. I had not heard her approach.

"Where is she?"

"What?" I stuttered. It was the mystery woman from that night outside the Library. "Who?"

"Judith, where is Judith?"

"How should I know?" She stood staring at me intensely, reading me. "Who are you talking about?" I knew she knew I was lying.

"You don't know where she is?"

"No," I said, giving up.

She turned and ran off down the alley.

"Wait!" I called, "Who are you?"

"Not here!" She called back as she turned the corner to the street. I didn't hear her, I realized, I had felt her voice.

I caught up with her in front of the Library. She stood by the giant oak doors, in the shadow of one of the huge columns that flanked the Library's grand front entrance.

"Who are you?" I said softly as I approached. She turned quickly and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and pinned me to the columns. Her strength amazed me; she was much stronger than I.

"Where is she?" she demanded, lifting me up against the column.

"I told you, I don't know! I haven't seen her in days!" She stared at me intently before letting me fall to the steps. She turned to go.

"Wait." I began, "I might be able to find her." She stopped again. "But, first, tell me who you are!"

"A sister." She disappeared down the staircase and around the corner of the building before I could get to my feet. I ran after her. I can only imagine what any of the homeless or other passersby must have thought seeing this small woman tossing me around and then both of us disappearing before their eyes!

She was gone, again. I stopped and looked around, gone, nowhere to be seen, and yet, I could still feel her presence. I knew she was watching me. I looked up the side of the Library in time to see her pull back into the shadows of the ledge above the second floor.

"How?" I called out, not seeing a way up to her.

"I climbed, idiot boy," she answered in my head.

"How do I hear you? Can you hear my thoughts, too?" I thought.

"Yes, Andrew."

"But, how?" I stared at the spot on the ledge where she had disappeared.

"There will be plenty of time for that. Are you going to join me or not?"

"Join you? How? How did you?"

"Just climb up, did she teach you nothing?"

I stared at the imposing wall in front of me. I could just make out what looked like little chunks chipped out of the concrete about arms lengths apart. Placing the tips of my fingers into them above me, I pulled. I smiled brightly as I realized that I could easily pull my weight up with just the slightest effort.

She reached down and pulled me over the ledge when I got close.

"Thank you!" I said.

"Don't thank me, she should have shown you these things."

She led me to a window toward the back of the Library. She reached under the sill with her fingernails and pulled. Not surprisingly, the lock popped and the window slid upwards. She crawled through the window and I followed her. We made our way through the dark hallways until we came to a reading room in the back of the second floor. I could see by the accumulation of dust on the tables there that it had not been used in a while.

She motioned for me to sit in a chair by the table farthest from the windows. She sat opposite from me, seeming to study my features.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" I asked, staring deeply into her deep brown eyes.

"You are a persistent one, aren't you?" She smiled and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes.

I don't know why, but I had never really given much thought to the fact that there were surely more like Judith and me. It hadn't crossed my mind that there were more of us walking around, or how many we may number. I guess in my naive arrogance, I had assumed that I was unique!

"My name," she finally began, "is Artemisia. I was born in Rome on July 8, 1593. Judith created me. I am, in that respect, your sister."